Free Intensity by Aliyah Burke Page B

head, taking more and more of him until
he hit the back of her throat. Even then, she didn’t stop; she kept
going.
    Playing with his sac, she ran her nails lightly
along it. His shudder was what she’d been after. She wanted him to
lose control. Wanted to feel his cum shooting into her. She’d
learned how to get what she wanted, and soon, her wish had come,
and she swallowed everything he released.
    “My turn,” he said, turning her so her pussy covered
his face.
    αβ
    “We need to leave,” she said, trailing her hand down
his chest, his hair tickling her palm.
    “Why, exactly?” His voice rolled off his tongue and
straight to her synapses, kicking them up, again, with the deep,
slow, unhurried drawl.
    She curved closer to him, soaking up every moment
she could have with him. Nothing so fanciful in her mind, like a
happily ever after. I don’t know why he would want me. Her
thought wasn’t a self-deprecating one or because she didn’t think
she had anything to offer; she just wasn’t a believer in forevers. Yet I’ve been married to him for nearly eleven years.
    “You promised we would go to their party.” She
patted his torso, taking the time to appreciate the rippled muscles
beneath her fingertips. “I’ll meet you down there.”
    “Meet me?” He looked down at her.
    She rolled away and climbed off the bed. “Yes, meet
you. I’m capable of making my way down alone.” She needed some time
to regroup.
    He rose up on his elbows, the white sheet a stark
difference to his tanned—and chiseled—torso. “How long?”
    She arched a brow and turned away. “Don’t start.”
Sarah moaned as her body protested the slightest moment.
    “Sore, baby?” His question rang softly in her
ear.
    “Stop smirking.” She walked—more like shuffled—off
to her bag and dug out a clean outfit. “Go. Mingle.”
    He robbed her of any breath with his kiss. Her legs
remained weak, even after he took a quick shower and left her
alone. She went and took her own shower, body relishing the heated
massage working its magic on her sore muscles.
    She leisurely dried off with a large, fluffy towel
before dressing. Barefoot, she padded out on the balcony, phone in
hand, sat on a chaise, and waited for her call to be answered.
    “Hello, Captain.”
    She smirked, her strain instantly lessened.
“Captain.”
    “Where are you?” Shea’s voice was soft and totally
unlike the person she portrayed in uniform—the no-nonsense Marine
Captain pilot.
    “Malaysia.” She stared at her fingernails, short and
unpolished.
    “You’re OCONUS? Where’d the Admiral take you this
time and how long are you there for?”
    She closed her eyes. “I’m not with him.”
    Shea hmmed. “Well, you go home to Georgia when you
have leave, so why is my best friend hanging in Maylasia? And why
am I not there soaking up the sun with you?”
    “I’m”—she crossed her ankles—“not alone. I’m on
Tioman Island.”
    “You’re not— Are you shittin’ me? Oh my God! Wait
one.” A door slammed, and silence descended. The sound of a drink
being opened hit her eardrums. “Okay, I’m ready now. I needed
liquid fortification for this. Fill me in.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Remember the guy I mentioned,”
she began.
    “You mean the one you’ve been pining over since we
got our first frock?”
    Longer is more like it, but yes, we’re going to
go with that. But I digress. “That’s the one.”
    “I so need more deets than that. So, how did you
re-meet him, and what the hell did he do to get you to head off to
an island near Malaysia with him for however long you’re there
for?”
    She opened her eyes and narrowed them. “What makes
you think I didn’t come here on my own?”
    “Please,” she scoffed. “Do we need to revisit the
fact you go home? That’s it, no trips or anything of the sort.
Until this man. So, we’ve established he’s a rock star in bed. I’m
assuming he’s hot as fuck. And despite you saying you’re not